All I Can Do
by IHeartHodgela
Summary: Angela POV that takes place after 2x20 Spaceman in a Crater. My ideas on her past, and what has led her to her beliefs on relationships, particularly the one with Hodgins. Hodgela fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is a Hodgela fanfiction that takes place following 2x20: "Spaceman in a Crater". I was deeply disturbed by Angela's response to Jack's proposal, and knew she must have been thinking some serious thoughts to say what she did. So I did what I always do when I can't make sense of things … I write them! I took some liberties with Angela's past, and let her crawl into my head for the time being. Right now, this is a two-chaptered fic, but my brain will only function enough to make the first part. Expect **part two: the conclusion** tomorrow!

**Ownership**: As usual, don't own the Bones characters, though I really wish I did. I borrowed Angela's brain for this fic, and I will gladly return it to her body once I've had a bit more fun with it. Also, this fic was inspired many, many months ago, after reading Bones spoilers and listening to Nelly Furtado's "Try". The song struck me as something Angela would be thinking, and so I tucked it away in my mind for later usage. Obviously the song does not belong to me, and I am not Nelly Furtado.

**All I Can Do**

All I know is everything is not as it's sold. Take Jack and I, for example. On the surface, we're a happy couple, very much in love, and still in the "sex and laughing" stage of our relationship. Or so I thought. 

All of that drastically changed a few weeks ago, when Jack asked me to move in with him. It was completely out of the blue, and something I was not expecting at all. We've only been dating for a few months, and – granted – I do have most of my stuff over at his place anyway. But when his "place" is a huge mansion with its own indoor _heated_ pool, mini movie theatre, display room for his fancy cars and collectables, and a master bedroom that has its own suite – and my "place" is a one bedroom walk-up apartment – I think it's a no brainer as to where I'd rather spend my time.

Still, like I told him, I need my space. I've always needed my space, and pretty much grew up enjoying my freedom. My dad wasn't around at all – too busy playing the rockstar – and my mom was a private person herself. When she wasn't working two jobs to support us, and pay for my extra curricular art and computer classes, she spent a lot of time by herself, too. We rarely did things together, except for special occasions, even though we always lived in small homes, or apartments where we'd have to be in close proximity to one another.

_And I have lived so many lives, though I'm not old_. I always knew I wanted to be an artist, even as a child. And despite the distance between us, my mom was always there to support me, no matter what I did. She used to say that I grew up too fast, and had to take on too many roles before my time. But when you have to care for a sick parent, that's what you do. I always felt bad because I knew this worried her – I knew that she was upset by the fact that we had never really been that close, and yet our time together was coming to a sudden end.

She died shortly after I graduated from high school, and I'll always hold onto the fact that she got to see me do that. In the last few months of her life, she wasn't able to take care of herself, or work – so I had to take on two part time jobs, in addition to my full time schooling. It was tough, but I made it through, and I graduated at the top of my class.

After the funeral, Dad said he would come back and settle down with me, but he never could quite get around to that. He would send money back, and make the occasional visit, but for the most part, I was on my own. I put myself through art school, and then university. I learned all I could about computers, because I knew that some day I would be required to use them to create my art, to express myself fully.

And then my life really began. I traveled, I saw the world. I had pretty much a different boyfriend for each country I lived in – and there were _a lot_. I was never interested in anything more than sex, and perhaps a bit of companionship. I didn't want a guy who was willing to settle down, marry me, and give me children and a domestic life.

And then I started work at the Jeffersonian, and I met Temperance Brennan. She became my instant girlfriend, and we did everything together. I had never really had a good female friend like that before, and I got the feeling that she hadn't either. You could say we were kindred souls, destined to meet up and forge a bond.

And she was everything I wasn't. A workaholic, a serious soul, somebody who would always put her duty and her job before her own life. And don't get me wrong, I love my job too, and I saw a real duty in the forensic work I was doing as a part of her team. But the nightlife was always the highlight of the day for me. And I lived for the weekends. To her credit, Brennan never seemed to grow tired of my attempts to push her into this life of mine, and to make it something she could enjoy too.

Boyfriends came and went, and they never seemed to stick around for too long. And it was just the way I wanted things, no strings attached. I figured I would know when something was right, I would get a feeling within my soul that told me the person I was with was "the one". The one I was meant to spend the rest of my life with, and hang onto for dear life.

And then I met Logan. He made my heart stop, and was the most kind, caring, and gentle soul I had ever known to that point. He seemed to really care about me, and my work. He wanted to hear about my day, and was interested in more than just what I could provide for him in bed. And while I never got a complete feeling of pure and utter joy from being with him, I felt something that I had never felt with a man before. This led me to believe that he was my one, he was my destiny.

But it wasn't meant to be, and looking back on things now, I should have known this. I should have been able to look forward, pull myself out of the little lovesick rut I had dug myself into, and get a clear view of my surroundings. But instead, I forged on, and had my heart broken.

Logan had never wanted more from me than just the sex. He had only wanted from me what I had been wanting from every other guy I had ever gone out with. And like an idiot, when I told him I wanted more – he freaked out and took off. I never thought I'd be able to trust a man again, and I took a leave of absence from my job at the Jeffersonian, and went to Fiji. Along the way, I did meet another guy who seemed to be as into me as I was him.

I was living the carefree life, no worries, nothing tying me down. Whilst in Fiji, and after consuming a fair amount of alcohol and who knows what else, we took part in a fire ceremony that involved hopping over a broomstick together to symbolize our love. It seemed fun at the time, and he seemed just as into it as I was. And despite the fact that I later found out that the ceremony had been the Fijian version of a wedding; I hadn't believed it symbolized anything special.

I returned home to Washington, and he did not. I have no idea where he is now, but upon my return I was distracted by a great looking photographer who swept me off my feet. Kirk may have been my first real true love, but he wanted more than I could give him. He wanted my full, undivided love and attention, and my mind was not willing to give that much of my heart up yet. My mind recalled in full detail the aspects of my love life that had gotten me burned in the past. It knew what happened when I tended to rush into things, and how I always ended up the one left holding the short straw.

When Kirk was killed much later into our relationship, it was another memory for my mind to file away. Don't let yourself fall for anybody else, the mind was sending out a warning signal, because they'll just leave you brokenhearted again.

So you can imagine my hesitance when Jack asked me out at work. I'd known him since he started at the Jeffersonian, and had never thought much of him. He was cute, and had the bluest eyes I had _ever_ seen on anybody, framed by long lashes that looked too perfect to be real. But he was a guy, and he was somebody I worked with – so I couldn't let myself fall for him. Again, the mind took over, sending out warning signals to the heart to keep the guard up, and not to let him in.

_Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me. And all I can do is try_. Jack always wanted more from me than I could offer him, even from the beginning. In the year before we went out, he was always dropping subtle hints, giving me flirty eyes when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Little did he know that I was watching, and that my heart was doing little flip-flops in my chest, screaming out at me to tell him I was noticing. But the brain won out on that fight, and the only response I would give was a sly smile, or a smirk.

Brennan and Cam convinced me to let him take me out on a date, after he'd come out and asked me. My first instinct had been to say no, and I had. I'd been sitting at my computer, analyzing video footage of a murdered child, when he'd walked in. As with most of our conversations, he would start off all professional, and then seat himself on my desk, facing me. He knew that I had nowhere to look but into his deep blue eyes, and he would get my full, undivided attention this way.

It had pained my heart to tell him no, to give him the excuse that we worked together, and it wasn't a good idea. When he'd challenged me with, "you can't say that you don't feel it", I hadn't been able to answer him. A lie just wouldn't work its way to my mouth fast enough, and he had forged on with his list of reasons. But I had remained firm, and had shifted the focus back to the work at hand.

But I couldn't get the idea out of my head, and I couldn't let it go. That entire day, I saw him around the lab, carefully avoiding my eyes, a pained look on his face. I felt so bad about it that I had gone to Brennan for advice. I knew she would confirm for me that it wasn't a wise offer to take him up on, and that it could only end in misery. What I hadn't banked on was Cam Saroyan being there too, and giving me her opinion that I should go for it.

And the date was amazing. Best date I had ever been on, hands down. Even though we were doing one of the simplest, most child-like things in the world, it all felt so right. Being on the swing beside Jack, hearing him talk about the dream he had about our date – I knew that this was going somewhere. I knew that he had already made up his mind that it would be a fantastic date, and that somewhere in his hyperactive brain, we were already dating.

Which is why, after the date, I had to break his heart and tell him it couldn't go further. The look on his face after I'd told him "friends" one last time – that look could have melted stone. He was like a defeated little boy, walking away from a mother's scolding for taking something he had wanted, but hadn't belonged to him.

And I didn't belong to him. I still don't. Even though I eventually let my heart win over, and agreed to test things out – he still didn't have all of me.

_All of the things we want each other to be, we never will be. We never will be._ Hodgins has always expected so much from me, even from the beginning. And I think he knows that sometimes it's hard for me to be open with him, and to share what I'm really feeling. But he pushes. He pushes because deep down, he needs to be validated. He needs _us_ to be validated, to mean something.

He needs to say his thoughts aloud, to have them heard. That's why he's constantly telling me that he loves me, and that he loves what I do. I know he loves my work, my eyes, my thoughts. I'd have to be blind to not see that he's in love with me. And while I'm just as much in love with him, I can't bring myself to say it aloud to him.

I think I've only used those three words a few times in our entire relationship – maybe only once. And it may have been when he was in the process of falling asleep next to me in bed. I don't know why this is, why I have such a hard time telling him what I feel, what's in my heart. I like to think that he _knows_ this, that he knows how much he means to me, and how much of my heart belongs to him. But sometimes I wonder.

Within the last month, he has proposed to me twice. The first time was at work, and I think it was something he hadn't really thought through completely. It came out of nowhere, while we were discussing a case, and he was working on a specimen. Out of the blue, he just threw it at me. "Will you marry me?"

I told him no … but not "no, I won't marry you". I told him it was a "no, I won't say yes". I further explained that the reason for my answer was that he was asking wrong, which was partially true. The whole idea of experiencing a "feeling" when something is right for that moment, and is meant to be happening at that point in time is still with me. It's still something I believe strongly in. And Jack throwing the proposal out there without so much as a warning did not fit into that. It doesn't matter that he looked into my eyes, and held my hands in his. I wouldn't let myself be taken over by the batting eyelashes that time.

And I knew that he wasn't going to give up on it that easily. I half expected him to show up for work the very next day in a tux, with a ring in his pocket and a Cinderella-style carriage waiting outside. It almost surprised me when the next few weeks came and went without so much as a conversation pointed towards the topic of marriage.

And then the dinner date arrived. "Wear something nice," he had said to me, and reiterated the demand that the gorgeous mukluks I had picked up in Tuktoyuktuk were not an option. For some reason, the lost proposal wasn't on my mind that night, as we made our way to the restaurant. I just kept thinking about how great he looked in his suit, and how brightly his eyes were shining.

When the dinner itself came and went without so much as a whisper towards the idea of marriage, I began to get nervous. That overactive mind of mine was whispering into my ear. If he wasn't there to ask me to marry him again, what could he possibly want from me? Could it be the end? I knew he was a gentleman, and gentlemen never dump their girlfriends via the phone, or e-mail or something corny like that. If he were to end things with me, I knew it would be done in a gentle, and caring manner – like a dinner where he could let me down easy.

Which was why, when he'd began to list off all the things my being in his life had done for him, I panicked. I saw the look on his face, and misread it for the look of pity you give someone just before you give them the "but…" end of your speech. I had blurted out, "are you breaking up with me?" and watched in horror as his face had fallen.

It was completely the wrong thing to say, and once it was out of my mouth, I had known that. But it was too late to take it back, and the damage had already been done. Then he had produced the box that held the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen, and had asked me for my hand in marriage again.

And my brain had sent out the warning signs. Instead of the feeling I was expecting, the overwhelming joy and happiness … I felt fear, and panic. And despite the fact that I tried to rationalize this to him without breaking his heart, I knew what I was saying didn't make sense to him. I knew that, despite the fact that he seemed willing to take my word for it that I'll know the feeling when it happens – he doesn't understand it.

He expects things to be as easy for me as they are for him. He knows that he loves me, and he knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. And he _knows_ that I know this about him. What I don't think he knows is that this is the way I feel too.

_As I say goodbye to the way of life I thought I had designed for me_. I never expected to fall this deeply for somebody. After the pain with Logan, and losing Kirk, I never thought I'd fall in love with somebody again. I never thought my mind would let my heart become so emotionally attached. The one-night stands, and the carefree relationships were my way of directing my life, my future. It was my way of making sure I was never hurt again, never in a position where somebody I cared so much for could hurt me.

But with Jack … all of this is lost. I want him to know how much he means to me, and I want to be able to tell him that I love him, without having him prompt me. The fact that, at the end of our dinner date he had to _ask_ me if I love him tells me so much about what he's thinking. If he has to actually ask me that, if he doesn't already know it in his heart, or is wary of that … then something's not working.

I'm afraid that my fear is so great that I'm allowing it to sabotage the best thing I've got going for me right now. My future with Jack. And I don't know what I can do change that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Part two (the conclusion) to this Hodgela fanfic. Happiness ensues :)

**Ownership**: Still don't own 'em

* * *

It's Friday afternoon, and I'm at work in my office at the lab. It's been just under a month since Jack last proposed to me. In a sense, nothing has changed between us – we're still about the sex and laughing, and we make good use of the Egyptian storage room here at work. Maybe not every lunch hour anymore, but we're in there at least a few times a week, and we've never been caught. 

But I'm sure people are aware of what's going on. More than once, I've caught Brennan watching us as we head for lunch, goofy grins on our face. And I know that Zack has gone so far as to follow us around for an entire day, using the excuse that he wants to "be like Hodgins", and learn how to impress a woman he's got the hots for.

I often wonder what my friends think when they see us together. Do they even see us as individuals anymore? Or have we become one of those combined-form couples like you read about in People magazine, like TomKat, and Brangelina. What would we be … Angins? Hodgela? Something silly like that, I'm sure!

Brennan has expressed her views on marriage, and on Jack and I more than once, and I know she talks about us with Booth, too. I'm still trying to find a way to get _those two_ together, but Brennan is too preoccupied with her work, and giving me _her_ opinion on my relationship with Jack to notice that. In time, I assure her, in due time she will come to see what's been right in front her eyes the entire time.

She can't _believe_ that I even entertained the thought of saying yes to Jack's last two proposals, and I'm not sure why this is. I know I've got issues myself, but with Brennan … I think she just hasn't met the right person yet to convince her that love is a risk worth taking, and that when you're with that person, you know you'd do anything for them, and to be with them. Well, I know she's met that person, she just doesn't realize it yet.

Jack hasn't brought up the topic of marriage again since that night at the restaurant. I half expected him to pout for days afterwards, but he surprised me by acting as if nothing had happened. Perhaps he's taken me at my word that I'll know when the time is right. But it's making me a bit edgy, especially since nothing has happened since that night.

It's like … like that uncle that we all had. You know the one, he's your favourite, and you think he's the funniest person in the world. But he knows you're a bit jumpy, and he makes a game out of hiding anywhere he can, and jumping out at you when you least expect him. It's hilarious, after you get over the feeling of shock when he first scares the pants off you.

Things feel like that with Jack now. I _know_ that he hasn't given up on me, and I _know_ he's going to ask again, but I just don't know when. And the not knowing is what makes me recall my crazy uncle. It's what has made me slightly on edge, reading way too much into every single thing Jack says to me, and every date he takes me on. I wonder if it will be the moment, and I hope that I can give him the answer he so badly desires.

And he deserves that answer. I want to be able to give it to him the next time he asks, but I think now I've become afraid that that feeling won't ever come. And really, how can you be afraid of not getting a feeling that you've never experienced before? It sounds utterly asinine when I think that to myself – and when I obsess over it at night, when Jack is sound asleep beside me. I worry that I won't know the feeling when it _does_ come, even though I told him that I would.

But on this Friday, as I stare down into the empty eye sockets of the small skull I hold in my hands, these thoughts are far from my mind. At work, while in my office, I'm able to compartmentalize, and push aside these feelings of doubt, fear, and the unknown. I can gaze into the eyes of the dead, will them to tell me their stories – and I'm instantly transported into their worlds.

It is here that Jack finds me on this afternoon, standing with the skull in my hands, the fleshed out face displayed on my Angelator behind me. When I'm with the dead, I am deaf to the world around me. But as I'm in this trance, I can feel a sensation prickle up my spine, and crawl into my neck, and I know that Jack has entered my space. I can always feel him when he's near, even before he's entered my line of sight.

He thinks he's surprised me, though, and he wraps his arms around my waist, burrows his face into my neck. I grin, and turn to face him.

"Hey," he says to me, his grin matches mine watt for watt.

"I'm working," I say to him, feigning annoyance. But this only makes him chuckle.

"Not for long," he replies. "Pack your stuff, we're going to Vegas, baby."

"Hodgins…" I begin, warningly. My first instinct is that this is another ploy to get me to agree to the proposal. Though we have not officially brought it up since the dinner date, I have managed to slip into conversations that he _needs_ to let me get to that point on my own, and can't be constantly pushing.

But he grins at me again, and I notice how lopsided this grin is. The realization of this makes me want to melt into a large puddle right there on the office floor.

"C'mon, Ang. It's just for the weekend, and I promise you'll have fun. We both need a break from this case, and from this environment. Besides, if Booth and Brennan can go there and not get hitched…"

"Alright," I say, begrudgingly. "But if I see anybody in a white, sequined outfit with a Bible in his hand…"

Jack raises his hand, and says, "Scouts Honour … no Elvis Ministers will be involved. I promise you."

I decide that it could potentially be fun, and allow Jack to help me clean up my work, put away the cases I'm working on, and then usher me from the room. As we're leaving the Jeffersonian, I suddenly realize that I've forgotten my purse in my office.

"Oh … I'll get it," he says, rushing to stand before me. "Here," he throws me a set of keys, "you can grab the car, and I'll grab your purse."

My spider sense is tingling, but I brush it off. True, Jack rarely lets me take the driver's seat in his fancy cars, but this time he just seems anxious to be off on our little adventure, and I'm sure he knows I'd find somebody to talk to along my way.

He's already got bags packed for us at his place, which is – still – _his_ place, and not ours. Funny that he'd never brought up the idea of living together again since I had first turned him down. He seemed to just skip right over that step in the dating chain, and move right along to engagement. I've never really thought much about that, come to think about it.

Before the night skies have even had a chance to darken, we're aboard his jet, and on our way to Nevada. One of the many perks of having a boyfriend with money is having any type of transportation available at the push of a button. Jack's got just about every single car imaginable, all neatly stored in his garage, or in the off-site facility where he keeps the "out of season" makes and models. His favourite is a shiny blue sports car, something Italian, I'm told. I've never been too good with cars, so I'm more likely to recall the colour of the car, rather than the make and model name. All I know is that I like the fast ones.

The flight seems short to me. It's as though we've just settled into our seats, when the pilot is announcing that we've reached our destination. Jack is up and down during the start of the flight, going back into the cargo area, but never returning with anything. I'm too excited to notice.

The first thing I notice about Las Vegas are the lights. It's funny that I've been to remote areas of the world, and have spent much time traveling across the country I call my home, but I've never been to Vegas. There are lights everywhere, vivid colours dancing across every horizon I can see. It's an artist's dream, and I curse myself for not stopping to grab my sketchpad and pencils.

Though the sky is beginning to darken, the city itself appears to have just woken up from a long slumber. While the colours dance across my vision, the sounds are continually fed into my ears. I know Jack is speaking beside me in the limousine, but I'm immune to what he's saying. Like a kid in the candy store, I can't stop staring through the window at all the glory around me, and wanting to reach out and touch some of it.

"I thought we'd have a quiet night to start," I hear him say.

I nod in his direction, watching as the car pulls up to a brightly coloured hotel, its lights matching the splendor of the strip it is situated on.

It doesn't take us long to be shown to our room, and "room" is a very modest term for what awaits us. The suite is grand, and expansive. It houses a large canopy bed, heart-shaped hot tub, full kitchen, and big screen TV.

"Not that we'll be using that much," Jack whispers in my ear, as he watches me study the large television set.

I playfully elbow him in the ribs.

As we round the corner to the bedroom, the breath catches in my chest. Pink and white rose petals are strewn about the room, making a path up to the bed, which is also coated in the silky soft petals.

"Jack…" I begin, not sure what to say.

"No, you don't need to say anything," he says, and wraps his arms around me. "Just enjoy yourself. That's all I want."

It is at this moment I think of what a wonderful person he is. I think of how much he has done for me up to this point, and what he continues to do to make me happy each and every single day. I realize that by just being with him, and allowing him to do these things for me – I have also made him happy. Without trying, I have been able to give back to him some of the happiness that he has given to me.

* * *

When I awake the next morning, the large bed is empty beside me. I carefully listen for noises, but am unable to find any other than the still silence of the room. 

I am up and dressed when Jack enters the room quietly. Sitting at the breakfast nook, I eye him suspiciously. "Where did you rush off to this morning?" I ask.

He gives me a sly smile, and walks towards me. "Finish up, and come with me," he says. "I have something to show you."

A tightness begins in my chest, and I suddenly feel panicked. This is not the feeling I was waiting for, not what I was expecting after a perfect evening with the man I dearly love. This is a feeling of fear, of that unknown that looms around the corner.

As I allow Jack to lead me from the room, and down towards the elevator, that feeling spreads into my stomach. I try to ignore it, try to push it down deep to my toes, where it can't get in the way. Jack's face is flushed, his eyes sparkling. Every few seconds, he glances my way, and then away when I attempt to meet his eyes.

I want to warn him, to tell him that if he's planning on doing what I think he is, he'd best retreat now. I can feel another heartbreak coming on, and I'm not sure if either of us is strong enough to face it. But then again, I was the one to tell him that I hoped he would keep asking me, that he should not stop just because I had said no to him twice.

Wordlessly, he leads me into one of the grand ballrooms of the hotel, and I try to make sense of what I'm seeing. It is already late into the morning, and the crowds have begun to gather. People are in a variety of states of dress – some in fancy attire, others simply in summery outfits. They are mulling around, and a vast number of them seem to be transfixed on a large object in the centre of the room.

I focus my gaze on it, and suddenly realize what it is I'm looking at.

A large canvas, set atop an easel has obviously been set up as the centerpiece to the room. The portrait that adorns the wooden frame is of a body, long and with downcast arms, and crossed legs. The portrait is dark, yet the body in the centre seems to almost jump from the canvas with life.

"_They're alive_," was how Amy Cullen had once referred to my work. And the centerpiece of the room _is_ my work.

I'm stunned into silence, watching the people walk about the room, and study other, smaller canvases, which I notice also contain works of mine.

"How…" I begin, but the words just refuse to make their way up my throat.

Jack smiles at me, and in that moment, I realize something. He gets me. He's always gotten me, even before we were officially dating. He could always calm me down after an extremely horrendous case, even when he had to deal with the same amount of grief. He had always put me, and my feelings ahead of his.

It hits me now what this trip was about. It was never about Jack trying to coerce me into another proposal. It was about me. He wanted to give me something, and in doing so, he had shown me that he understood what I was about, and what my work meant to him. I had always known that I was more than just a lover to him, but standing there in the gallery, watching strangers marvel at something I had created, and watching Jack watch me watch this – something inside of me shifted.

The feeling I had tried to push down to my toes had begun to rise again, but this time the sensation was warm, and tingly. Comforting, somehow. It worked its way up my legs, through my chest, and into my shoulders.

By the time it reached my head, I knew what I was meant to do, what the feeling was dictating to me.

I turned to Jack, and took his hands in mine.

"Sweet, dear man," I began. A look of panic crossed his face, and I reached out with one hand to caress his cheek. "No," I said. "Just listen."

He gazed at me, those big blue eyes seeming to probe deep into mine. He opened his mouth to speak, but I pushed my finger onto his lips, and shushed him.

"I want to be with you, Jack. For now, and for always. I've known that for a long time, but I've just never felt right in saying it to you. Until now."

"Does this mean…" he manages through my finger, still pressed at his lips.

"Yes," I say, and a grin spreads across my face. "But this time, I'm asking you. Jack Hodgins, will you marry me?"

He takes me into his arms then, and his embrace is so tight that I can hardly breathe. I lean my face into his shoulder, and whisper into his ear,

"Jack, I love you."


End file.
